


clinical trial

by etoilette



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Medical Examination, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: Kinktober Day #3: Medical Play and Orgasm Denial"Kinky," Akira says."Hm," Takemi replies. "It's for today's clinical trial.""Are you going to film me sleeping or something?""No, I'm going to film you cumming your brains out."
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Takemi Tae, Persona 5 Protagonist/Takemi Tae
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949695
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	clinical trial

"Our deal with Takemi has just started," Morgana meows in Akira's ear as he peeks over his shoulder down at Akira's cellphone. A message from Takemi requesting that he come into the clinic shines up at them from the IM screen. "You should go see her to build up trust."

"Right," Akira says. He types an "OK" message to Takemi and apologizes to Ryuji for dipping out of ramen night at the last minute. It's lucky that Takemi caught him while he's still in Yongen-Jaya, rather than already out in Ogikubo.

He waves goodbye to Morgana at the entrance of Takemi Clinic and strolls right into the examination room, where Takemi is flipping through a blue folder. As soon as she sees him, she tosses the folder aside.

"Hello, guinea pig," she says. "Thank you for coming here on such short notice. Would you like a candy?"

Akira twists his bangs around his finger. "If you're going to be so condescending to me, then I could leave."

He isn't sure if that's the right move, considering Takemi could very easily tell him to fuck off forever and good luck trying to heal himself with band-aids and energy drinks from the vending machine. But Takemi's only response is a delighted laugh.

"Sorry. I'm not used to dealing with kids around your age."

 _What age are you used to dealing with then?_ Akira wants to ask, but he holds his tongue. Instead, he asks, "What kind of trials are we going to do today?"

He remembers the god-awful taste of the medicine she had given him the first time, and how he had woken up with a killer headache, feeling like he just came back from the dead. It would be horrible to have to go through that experience again, of course, but on the bright side, maybe he could mooch some ramen off of her later.

"Take off your pants," she says in lieu of a reply.

Akira unbuckles his belt and shimmies his pants off, folding them up and placing them on the bed.

"And your underwear too," Takemi continues. She isn't looking at him anymore, too busy pulling out a video camera from a drawer.

Akira raises an eyebrow but she's a doctor, so it's not too bizarre to think that she would want to do a close examination. He pulls down his boxer briefs and tosses that onto his pants. Takemi stands up and walks to the back of the room where a dusty tripod is, and she sets it up with little effort, placing the video camera on top of it before dragging it closer to the bed.

"Kinky," Akira says.

"Hm," Takemi replies. "It's for today's clinical trial."

"Are you going to film me sleeping or something?"

"No, I'm going to film you cumming your brains out."

"Nice."

It takes a second before Takemi's words actually sink through his skull, and he blinks at her. She stares back at him, obviously amused if her quirked eyebrow and lips are any indication.

"What?"

"It's simple," Takemi says brusquely as she snaps on her latex gloves. "Every time you're about to cum, just raise a finger or tell me to stop. If you need to tap out, raise three fingers."

Oh god, she's serious.

Akira waggles his eyebrows at her, rubbing his sweaty palms against his bare legs. "Do I win a prize if I go over a certain number?"

Takemi cups her chin in her hand and smirks. "If you're a good boy, maybe."

"Would you like for me to face the camera?"

"I'm not shooting a porn right now. You can do whatever you want. The camera is just for record-keeping, since I won't be able to take notes during this trial."

Akira shifts his body so that he's facing the camera, parting his legs wide in an invitation. Takemi scowls and slaps his knee.

"If you sit like that, then my body will be blocking the way. Just sit properly."

It takes a bit more manoeuvering before he is sitting right where Takemi wants him to, and she crouches down in front of him, right between his thighs. Under the pale fluorescent light of the examination room, Akira can see a sheen of slick on her latex-covered hands — lube of some kind, presumably. The sight of the beautiful and distant doctor on her knees before him makes Akira's dick twitch with interest, and it starts to fill up. She looks at him once and there is a mischievous spark in her eye.

"Don't get any weird ideas," she says but before Akira can reassure her that he would never dream of touching her without her express permission, Takemi reaches out and firmly takes hold of his penis.

Whatever lube she used to coat her gloves makes the going smooth as she starts to rub up and down. She twists her wrist and strokes the fat vein on the underside of Akira's cock, and within seconds, he's squirming on the bed, biting his lip. It's no surprise that this adult, this doctor, is far more experienced and talented with her hands than any of the girls Akira got with back in his little town, before his false accusation.

When Akira imagined Takemi in bed, he imagined her as a sort of dominatrix type, who got off on causing pain to any man fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to share the sheets with her. And maybe that's still true, despite her feather-light strokes and soft grip. Maybe it's because she's doing this as a doctor, but Takemi is incredibly gentle.

She doesn't clench down around the penis, and she pumps her fist at a slow and leisurely pace. She coaxes out the pleasure starting to coil and tighten in Akira's gut, and within minutes, Akira is at full mast.

"Like what you see?" Akira asks breathlessly. He's big, in his opinion, if he thinks about the other guys in his grade.

But Takemi's reaction is a noncommittal hum. She doesn't answer, and Akira feels a stab to his pride at the implication.

She starts to move her hand faster, tickling Akira's wet head, gathering the pre-cum and spreading it around the red flesh to make each pass smoother. Sparks of pleasure shoot up Akira's body and he grips his teeth to bite back his desperate moans and whimpers.

He tries to buck into Takemi's palm, desperate to get more friction from her teasing pace, but Takemi reaches out with her free hand and places it on Akira's waist. A silent warning.

"S-sensei," he says, and he bites back another moan. "Sensei, I—"

"You know what to do," Takemi says.

Mercifully, she speeds up once more, tensing her warm fingers around Akira, tightening her fist around the sensitive dick.

He raises one finger and Takemi stops. She looks at the camera and says, "One orgasm."

"Do you have to say that?" Akira asks breathlessly. "It's not very sexy."

"Sorry," Takemi says, but she is laughing, so Akira doesn't think she's serious at all about her apology. "This is just me doing my job."

Akira pants as he tries to collect himself. His hips move without his accord as it tries to chase after the almost-orgasm rapidly fleeing his system, but Takemi's hand on his hip merely tightens to keep him still. As soon as his body starts to fully relax again, his tense body falling slack, Takemi starts the pace once more.

After the edging, he's so sensitive it borders on painful. Akira grits his teeth and hisses, and he sees Takemi's smirk take on a decidedly mocking edge.

"Calling it quits already?" she teases. She presses her thumb down right on the slit, and flexes her fingers around the rest of the shaft.

Akira jerks back almost instinctively, trying to get away from Takemi's relentless hand, but her only reply is tapping her fingernail against the head. Even through the glove, he can feel the sharp manicured tip and the minute pain mixes with the pleasure until Akira twists with a shout.

"Ah ah ah," Takemi says, pulling her hand away. "Remember to raise your finger when you're about to come. Unless you're going to tap out at two times?"

"No way," Akira pants, and he shoots her the most smug look he can manage. "It's not over yet."

Takemi shrugs. "Suit yourself. It's better for me if I have a test subject with stamina anyway."

She starts up again and despite the fact that Akira has almost cum two times at this point, she doesn't let up. Gone is the almost affectionate way Tae had been playing with his dick. It's all business now as she works his erection furiously, clenching down around it.

"W-wait," Akira says. He reaches out and grabs onto Takemi's wrist, but he can't work up enough strength to actually _stop_ her. "Takemi-sensei, please, I—"

But he cuts himself off with a shout and he convulses on the bed, throwing his head back. He almost falls back as he starts to buck into Takemi's hand, and not even Takemi's warning push on his hip can stop him.

He writhes on the bed, kicking out as Takemi starts to scratch up and down the penis like she's petting behind a dog's ear. Akira doesn't even know if he's feeling pleasure or pain at this point — just heat. It burns from his core, up his spine, until he's sure that even the tips of his fingers and toes are an angry red.

He feels Takemi lean in closer — can feel her breathing against him. She blows air lightly against the head and Akira chokes out her name again.

Somehow he has presence of mind to remember Takemi's instruction, and he can feel the urge start to build. He clenches his hole in an effort to stave it off, as if that alone could stop his body from being pushed towards the edge by Takemi's hand. Slowly, with his entire body quivering so much he can barely move, he raises one finger.

Takemi stops immediately. "Glad to see you remember this time," she says, sounding genuinely proud.

Akira can't pull himself together enough to say anything to her, and he can't stop quivering as his muscles clench up. He's leaking so much pre-cum that at this point, he wouldn't even know from sensation alone whether he came or pissed or what. Every breath is a battle and for a moment, Akira's world is a cascade of dull colours and muffled panting. Takemi tsks lightly and places her thumb so it's pressing down against the slit, as if she's trying to keep Akira all plugged up, and the shock of the pressure jolts Akira back.

"Sensei," Akira moans, but he isn't sure what he even wants to say. His world has boiled down to the pleasure crashing through his body and the tight warmth of Takemi's hand around his most vulnerable part. "Sensei, I—"

"You're a big boy, aren't you?" Takemi says. She grinds down on Akira's slit, making him scream and kick out, almost smacking her in the face. As a punishment, she removes her hand, leaving Akira instantly bereft and cold. "That was pretty naughty. I won't be able to reward you with any candy later if you're going to act like this."

The only word that catches onto the periphery of Akira's consciousness is 'reward' and he humps the air like an animal in heat, chasing after Takemi's hand.

"Please," he starts to beg before his pride rears its head again. He bites his lip, uncaring of the sharp pain and salty taste flooding onto his tongue.

"A pity," sighs Takemi. "I thought you could have lasted longer before any sort of that."

It takes a minute as Akira takes in a deep breath, trying to force oxygen into his oxygen-deprived brain. It's hard to push through the fog, but he manages to find his words again. At this point, he's not even sure why he's holding on anymore. Why he doesn't beg Takemi to finish him off and leave it at that.

But the way Takemi had talked about stamina earlier, as if she would turn him down and rescind their deal if she thinks Akira can't handle whatever other trials she has planned down the line. He thinks of the poor supplies he and Ryuji scraped together from Don Quixote and Aohige, and of how effective Takemi's medicine had been in healing up a particularly nasty injury when they were in Kamoshida's Palace.

He can't fuck this up.

It feels like there's a dry lump in his throat and he swallows past it to say, "I can keep going. I can go all night if you want to."

"I don't really want to. I have an appointment at eight."

She places her hands back onto Akira's gripping it tight, and when she moves her hand up, Akira lets out a shrill cry as he arches. The last thought he has before the world fades away in a kaleidoscope of stars is that he didn't have time to raise his hand.

For a second, he doesn't know what happened, arching and shaking in the bed, as spurts of hot liquid leak out of his dick like it's being pushed out of him. Takemi doesn't move her hand, but he can feel her pressing up and down with her fingers, like she's playing a scale on a piano.

Each motion sends a satisfying vibrato through Akira's entire body, and it feels like she's keeping him at her apex for a miniature eternity.

_Your deal with Takemi is just starting out. You should make sure you don't do anything to make her distrust you._

He could practically hear Morgana's disapproval in his ear, but the relief pulsing through him from the release is just too strong. He's lost in a sea of white noise and he can barely get enough air into his lungs. Inanely, he wonders if Takemi will give him CPR or hand him an inhaler if he asphyxiates himself during his orgasm.

Takemi strokes him through, milking out as much cum as possible despite the fact that the point of their trial had been _not to cum._ Eventually, the sensations taper off, and he takes a shuddering breath to steady himself, his muscles quivering from being tensed up for so long.

"Sorry, sensei," he rasps, as sincerely as he can.

"You don't sound very sorry," Takemi says crossly, but there is a hint of excitement in her eyes as she stands up and walks back towards her desk. She tugs off her soiled latex gloves and tosses them neatly into the trash. From his angle, Akira can't see what she's doing as she opens up and rummages through her desk drawer, but when she turns back around, she has a new pair of gloves on and she's holding something small and pink and egg-shaped.

Akira gulps as he recognizes it as a vibrator.

"That was very naughty of you, guinea pig," Takemi says. She clicks a button on the remote and the vibe starts to whirr so hard it almost shakes itself out of Takemi's hand. "You'll have to be punished before we can start again."

**Author's Note:**

> Takemi was very fun to write but this was also very hard for me because it made me realize I don't really know much about what dicks look like.


End file.
